


Someone worthy of you

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aladdin rewrite, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Disney Movies, F/M, Jon and the Starks Are Not Related, Jonsa Disney/Fairytale collection, Jonsa Disney/Fairytale rewrite, Magic, Robb Sansa and Arya are the only Starks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-01-06 20:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12218187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: Sansa knew that Robb meant well, trying to find decent matches for her and Arya to ensure their protection in these troubled times. But she still held to that girlhood dream of marrying for love.But as her brother's kingdom comes under threat, she has to decide between love and duty. Luckily, the bastard beyond the wall will win back her family's kingdom, as well as her heart.Aladdin rewrite.Part of the Disney/Fairytale rewrite collection.





	1. Chapter 1

The fire was burning low but Sansa remained seated in her chair, while her direwolf Lady slept soundly by her feet. She continued tirelessly moving the needle through her fabric as she made a new cloak for her sister. Robb no doubt believed she needed the fabric in order to make a new dress in preparation for Prince Joffrey’s upcoming visit in the morning. Sansa felt that her brother should know better by now than to keep presenting suitors for her and Arya. It always ended in tears for the men and amusement for the sisters.

The last suitor who had visited for Arya was Aegon Targaryen, who had thought to woo her sister with his tales of victory in battle. He had spoken as if he were expecting Arya to want a knight in shining armour and after his boasting got too much that he was insulting the Smith’s work at Winterfell, Arya had asked him to prove his talent. She challenged the Prince to a duel using a small sword that the Smith had made for her months before and the duel ended with Arya accidentally (she swears), breaking the Prince’s nose. The last suitor to visit for Sansa had been Harrold Hardying, who had been arrogant and had spoken to Winterfell’s staff as though they were dirt on his shoe. When he insulted Arya, Sansa had seen red. However, she maintains to this day that Lady was far too well behaved to ever relieve herself in Harrold’s boots. Arya had laughed so hard she had been unable to lift herself from the bed for almost an hour, her body shaking with uncontrolled amusement.

She didn’t really blame Robb. Since their parents had died, he was in charge of the kingdom and she knew he felt he had to protect his sisters, assure their protection for the rest of their days with a secure match. Sansa knew he meant well but just wished that he considered love to be as important.

Arya entered the chambers, soaked from training in the pouring rain with Nymeria on her heels, shaking her fur to send drops of water everywhere. Sansa clicked her tongue at her sister, before she got out of the chair and helped her sister remove her jerkin and shirt. She moved to hang them over the mantelpiece while Arya removed her boots and breeches before taking a nightdress from her drawer. Arya had her own chambers but on the colder nights, she would share a bed with Sansa.

Nymeria crossed over to Lady, who opened one eye at her sister in disapproval at the wet fur but let out a resigned huff as Nymeria snuggled up beside her. Sansa carefully folded up her work and put another log on the fire before preparing for bed. Arya was already snuggled under the furs, her eyes half-lidded as she fought sleep, waiting for Sansa to join her in the warmth of the bed. Sansa slipped in, giggling when Arya jerked away as her cold feet brushed her shin.

“Do you think Robb will ever give up?” Arya asked once they were settled. Sansa sighed, looking up at the ceiling as though the cracks could answer for her.

“He thinks he is doing what is best for us,” she replied eventually, glancing at her sister. Arya scowled at the words and she was ready to retort but Sansa continued. “We cannot blame him for it really. He is alone in this, he has no support with mother and father gone. He wants to protect us, that is all.”

“I am never being somebody’s lady,” Arya muttered. Sansa smiled at her sister, rolling over so that they were facing each other.

“No,” Sansa mused softly, her eyes drifting shut as the heat of the fire warmed the room and eased them into sleep. “You’ll be somebody’s knight.”

***

“Sansa!” Robb yelled as he emerged from the castle and stormed across the courtyard to where Sansa and Arya were laughing by the fountain. He glared at them and they tried to look composed but Arya was trembling with the effort and Sansa couldn’t stop her lips from twitching upwards. The direwolves, Nymeria and Lady were lying by their feet, blinking innocently as Robb approached.

“Which one did it?” he demanded, glaring at the wolves. Nymeria yawned loudly, putting her head on her paws and looking up at Robb with a bored expression. Robb narrowed his eyes at Arya, who merely shrugged.

“He was being most inappropriate with my sister so I set Nymeria on him,” she responded. “She only bit him a little, mostly took his breeches to be fair.” Sansa burst out laughing, her arms clutching her stomach. Robb turned on her, beside him Grey Wind gave sniff which sounded rather judging.

“This is getting out of hand,” he said firmly. “These suitors are from worthy houses, they will ensure that you are looked after and protected. I can’t guarantee it on my own here, you know that.”

“Yes, they are all from worthy houses,” Sansa bit back, her eyes narrowing on Robb. “But would you marry your sister to a monster so you have one less burden?” Robb paled at her words.

“You think … you think I want to send you away? If I thought my reign was secure, I would happily keep you and Arya here. But we’re surrounded by enemies. The Greyjoys are attacking the shores everywhere and the Boltons are said to be planning a revolt. I won’t have you two in danger, you are all I have left.”

“I know you mean well Robb,” Sansa said, her voice softening in order to reassure him. “But I want to marry for love. Can’t you at least let me choose for myself?”

“I think you should,” Arya added. “You are rubbish at picking out decent suitors. Just let Sansa decide herself who to write to instead.”

Robb managed a small smile at that and gave a small sigh, shaking his head in defeat. “Alright, but this danger is real, do you hear me? The sooner we have allies and I know that you two are safe, the faster I can clear my head enough to deal with all of this.”

“You could always get married you know,” Arya said lightly, picking the dirt from her nails and not even looking at her brother. “You know, for allies.” Her eyes finally looked up at Robb and he blanched at the steely gaze she gave him. Robb swallowed and Sansa frowned, amazed she had not questioned this before.

“Of course, I will marry,” he responded. “But this is about keeping you two safe and happy as well.”

“Being married wouldn’t make me happy,” Arya retorted, glaring at her brother. “Let me train properly to join your Kingsguard!”

“Absolutely not,” Robb snapped. “Haven’t you been listening? I’m trying to protect you and putting you in a Kingsguard is the definition of putting you in danger!”

“Not letting me learn to defend myself is the definition of putting me in danger!”

“Alright, stop it!” Sansa bit out, standing between them. The wolves were all standing now, watching their humans attentively and trying to work out what was going on. Sansa placed a hand on Arya’s shoulder as she looked at Robb.

“How about a deal?” she asked. Robb and Arya managed to stop glaring at each other long enough to look at her. “I will find a husband within six months but Arya is off the hook for marriage proposals.” Robb opened his mouth but Sansa glared at him, warning him not to interrupt. “If these dangers do start to present themselves, then you can send her to my husband’s lands. We are both safe then so you are happy. And Arya is free to be herself so she is happy. And I will have a husband who I can love and be loved by, so I am happy. Is that fair, Robb?”

Robb sighed, running a hand through his hair but eventually, he nodded.

“Aye. That is fair enough, Sansa.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeeah so this story is going to have magical elements in it. But then I feel with it being in GoT category, that magic shouldn't really be that far-fetched a thing :p  
> Also for the sake of ease, the Wall is not the huge thing from canon as there are no White Walkers. Its more like....Hadrians wall lol

Jon was used to blending in to the shadows, a ghost of a man, stalking through the Northern woods for his prey or for a simple forage. The wildlings liked to say Jon was on the wrong side of the wall in his moments of scavenging but Jon had simply pointed out that the food was easier to get from the kneelers for they harvested it or killed it and then all they had to do was sneak over the wall and take it.

Rarely did Jon have reason to worry when he decided to go hunting but he had heard enough whispers from the Northern Lords when he was hiding to know to duck out of sight when the sigil of a flayed man appeared on the horizon.

Beside him, Ghost, the direwolf he had been found as a child, growled. Even if he hadn’t heard whispers, the sound of Ghost would have alerted Jon for the beast never made a sound.

“Lord Bolton,” said Lord Umber said cheerily. “What can I do for you?”

“I wish to discuss the King,” Lord Bolton responded simply. “And a proposal if you would assist me in my endeavours.”

Jon waited until they were inside the keep before continuing along the forest line. Ghost followed silently beside him, casting his head up every so often to sniff the air, or stopping to listen out for threats.

Jon picked the winter berries from the trees and took down a partridge while Ghost came bounding up with a couple of rabbits. Jon took them from the wolf to put in his small bag but he would let Ghost have them later.

He was picking at some fallen apples when Ghost suddenly took off, causing Jon to leap to his feet. He ran after his wolf, trying to ensure his bag was tied and that he could grip his bow while he ran. But just as quickly as he took off, Ghost stopped and Jon only just managed to stop before he crashed into the beast. Heaving for breath, he glared at his companion but Ghost barely noticed, his paws starting to dig. Jon frowned, moving around to watch.

“What is it boy?” he asked gently. Ghost stuck his snout in the ground where he had been digging, and when he rose again, he held a large black horn in his jaws. He deposited it at Jon’s feet before sitting back on his hunches with a sense of pride. Jon blinked at the horn before raising an eyebrow at his wolf.

“What is this?” he asked but then he heard voices, alerting him that the Lords were out in the open again. He grabbed the horn and quickly moved back further into the cover of the trees.

“I’m sorry to hear that you cannot help me,” Lord Bolton was saying. “Your son could have Sansa, if he wishes it.”

Lord Umber laughed. “You have obviously never sent your son to court either of those girls. She-wolves, the pair of them when they need to be!”

Lord Bolton said nothing, looking out across the lands and towards the forest. On instinct, Jon crouched lower even though he knew he was unlikely to be spotted.

“King Robb knows you’re plotting against him anyway,” Lord Umber continued casually, as if he found the whole thing amusing. “But you seem to be short on allies to actually do it.”

“Perhaps I won’t need allies,” Lord Bolton said, still looking towards the forest. He suddenly turned back to Lord Umber, giving the man a small incline of his head. “Well, I am sorry we couldn’t come to an agreement.”

Lord Umber shrugged, already turning away from his guest. Lord Bolton mounted his horse and started making his way back the way he had arrived. However, once Lord Umber had disappeared back into the castle, Lord Bolton had swerved his horse to the edge of the forest, disappearing amongst the trees.

Jon leapt to his feet and Ghost padded to his side to pick up the horn again. His wolf slink low to the ground as they made their way back to the Wall. He quickened his pace, glancing back every so often when he was sure he could hear the horse hooves thundering on the ground. Ghost suddenly moved further to the left, breaking into a small trot as he moved soundlessly among the trees.

“I would stop right here if I were you.”

Jon did, turning to meet the point of an arrow aimed right at his heart. The man had black hair, unkept and falling around his eyes, a pale blue and piercing through Jon to his very core. The man grinned and Jon swallowed thickly, his hand gripping his bag tightly. The man moved his eyes towards it and then back up, the command unspoken.

“I just have food,” Jon said, trying to reason. “Please, I spent so long foraging.”

“Oh, poor you,” the man replied, a mock pout on his lips. “Hand the bag over, and your weapons. Or my hounds will have you.”

And then suddenly, there were six bloodhounds appearing through the trees, their jaws snapping and eyes wide with bloodlust. Jon exhaled slowly in defeat, allowing the bag to slip out of his hand as his other unsheathed his dagger and threw it on the floor. He lifted his bow and quiver of arrows from his back and laid them gently in front of him.

“Thank you,” the man said cheerily. “Ramsay Bolton, by the way.”

Jon said nothing. Ramsay tutted, his eyes narrowing. “Now that isn’t very polite, is it? When I introduce myself, I expect the same from you. So, tell me, who are you? Are you one of Stark’s men?”

“I’m nobody’s man,” Jon bit out sharply. He had been a loner for as long as he could remember. He traded with Mance from time to time but otherwise, he kept to himself with only Ghost for company. He remembered Mance telling him to be wary of these southerners, and with good reason Jon supposed now.

Suddenly, there was a flash of white and a sudden yelp of pain. Jon turned in time to see Ghost fling the hound he had killed towards the two that were nearest his right, knocking them to the ground and giving him enough time to tear the throat from the one to his left. Ramsay hissed, turning his arrow towards Ghost but Jon had taken the second of distraction Ghost had created and tackled him to the ground, causing the arrow to hit his own hound.

Ramsay moved his bow, throwing the string around Jon’s neck and pulling until Jon was choking, his hands scrambling up to try and pry the string away as it tightened. He spluttered, his legs kicking out as his lungs fought for air.

Ghost lunged and Jon gasped in a long breath as he felt Ramsay move back to avoid Ghost’s teeth. Still coughing, Jon rolled to his knees, crawling for his dagger as the remaining hounds leapt for Ghost.

But Ramsay whistled quickly, retreating back and disappearing amongst the trees just as Jon found the strength to stand. Ghost was bleeding from near his neck and held his right front paw above the ground as he panted, watching their attackers disappear.

 “Next time you won’t be so lucky!” Ramsay called out from the shadows. Ghost snarled in the direction of the voice before limping to Jon.

“You okay boy?” Jon asked, parting Ghost’s fur to look at the wound. Ghost gave his cheek a small lick in reassurance before starting to walk off. Jon called out to him but Ghost kept going. Huffing, Jon grabbed the bag and his weapons again before trudging after his wolf.

He found Ghost in a clearing, in front of one of the old Weirwood trees. He had dug another hole and as Jon neared, he realised Ghost had buried the horn away from Ramsay. Jon frowned at his companion.

“Were they after this?” he asked softly, moving to pick the horn up again and lifting it to his eyes. Ghost watched silently. “This old piece of rubbish?” Jon continued, lifting a hand to wipe the dirt off and look at the patterns more clearly.

The horn shook in his hands with such a force Jon had to drop it and scramble back on his hands. Ghost leapt backwards too but Jon noticed that he had just seemed startled by the movement but otherwise seemed to act as though he knew what would happen.

Smoke surrounded them and Jon coughed, waving a hand to blow it away from his face. When it cleared, a tall redheaded man stood before him, rubbing his head as though in pain. He stretched up, looking around him and his eyes fell on Ghost and the horn still at his paws.

“You kidding me? A dog woke me up?!”

“A dire-wolf!” Jon bit out, causing the man to whirl around to face him. Jon hauled himself to his feet.

“Did you rub the horn?” the man asked.

“Aye, I was trying to read it and…”

“Well, what are your three wishes then?” the man interrupted, moving to crack his neck. Jon blinked.

“Pardon?”

“You get three wishes. And then I go back to the hellhole of that horn to become slave to someone else in another thousand years or so.”

“You … you’ve been trapped in that thing?” Jon replied, frowning at the horn that still lay on the ground.

“I’m a genie, much to my disdain. Oh, to be free to roam like a man. A wildling, I’d like to be a wildling I think.”

“I could set, ow, Ghost!” Jon shouted as the wolf bounded to him, knocking him to the ground and nuzzling his face. The soft whine was barely audible but Jon heard it all the same. He closed his eyes, clearing his mind for a brief moment to try and get into Ghost’s head.

He had done this sometimes, when he was worried about his companion not returning to him, or when he was trying to figure out what was bothering his wolf when he acted strange, such as he was doing now. Ghost never made a sound unless threatened or if Jon was threatened, like with Ramsay.

Ghost’s mind received him easily, used to Jon entering him now. And Jon felt himself move as though through time, to when Ghost was a pup and Jon had found him. Although there were other pups here too, cold and unmoving against the fur of their dead mother. Ghost was nudging them all, trying to get them to move but to no avail. They were gone too.

He was alone, the lone wolf, no siblings, no mother, no family. Not now.

Jon jerked from Ghost’s memory, a hand burying in the fur of his neck, careful to avoid the wound. Ghost licked his cheek softly, a reminder that they had each other even if they both longed for more. And Jon realised that Ghost was trying to tell him not to free this genie, not yet. They had a chance to wish for things that could get them out of this life. Jon nodded against the wolf’s fur, silently letting him know he understood.

“How about a deal?” Jon asked, finally looking up at the man again, who raised a brow in curiosity. “I use two wishes and then use the third to set you free.”

“You … you would do that? Truly?” the man asked.

“I swear it on the Old Gods,” Jon replied, looking to the Weirwood tree beside them. The man followed his gaze.

“In that case,” he said brightly. “You can call me Tormund.”


	3. Chapter 3

Arya yelped when Sansa reached out and grabbed her arm, twirling her around, away from the stable entrance. Her little sister scowled at her shaking her hand free from her Sansa’s grip.

"What are you doing?" Sansa hissed. "We promised Robb that we would behave!”

"I just want to get out of the keep for a bit," Arya responded, wrestling her arm away as Sansa made to take it again. “You can tell Robb if you like but either way I’m going.”

“Arya!” Sansa sighed, fingers pinching her nose in exasperation.

She loved her sister, admired her bravery and determination. But sometimes Sansa felt Arya was too headstrong for her own good. Arya stared at her and Sansa knew her sister had spoken true. She was going out into the wilderness and Sansa could either let her go unnoticed or could disturb Robb from his battleplans and council meetings to try and drag Arya back into the safety of the keep.

“At least let me and the wolves come with you,” Sansa conceded eventually. Arya snorted.

“Really? I never take Nymeria with me, she would draw too much attention,” Arya replied simply and Sansa figured she should have known Arya had done this before.

“What do you do out there?” Sansa asked. Arya shrugged.

“Speak to people,” she replied in a bored tone. Sansa raised an eyebrow.

“Speak to people?” she repeated.

“The small folk aren’t any different to us!” Arya retorted, narrowing her eyes. Sansa raised her hands in defence.

“I know,” she responded. “I just mean, it is dangerous for us to wander off. Who is so important to speak to that you need to leave Winterfell?”

“I’m trying to gather support for Robb,” Arya replied. “If the Boltons are planning a revolt, the small folk will suffer as much as us, more so perhaps and so I thought if I could convince them to fight with us, with Robb, you wouldn’t have to marry some stupid Lord for his stupid army.”

“Oh Arya,” Sansa tried to sigh in exasperation but her lips kept pulling up. She adored her sister.

“Although, I have heard things about the Boltons,” Arya continued, her voice dropping to a whisper and she sounded afraid for the first time that Sansa could ever remember.

“Me too,” Sansa replied with a shiver before gesturing to the open door of the stables. “Shall we then?”

“Alright,” Arya conceded, walking ahead and then she suddenly looked over her shoulder at Sansa. “Stay close to me at all times!”

“Okay,” Sansa replied as she mounted her mare and pulled her hood up.

She trotted after Arya to the gates and was surprised at how the guards stepped away without question. She rolled her eyes, muttering how Robb needed better guards, especially if Arya had done this before. Arya responded that she had threatened them with Nymeria more than once if they didn’t let her pass.

Wintertown wasn’t far from Winterfell in distance but the snow and winter winds were making it more difficult to travel far. Sansa pulled her cloak tighter around her, trying to gain warmth in any way possible.

They stopped at the inn, where Arya ordered two flagons of ale, much to Sansa’s disgust. She had never acquired a taste for it, she had always much preferred wine. She and Arya kept their hoods up as they took a table by the window. Arya kept glancing out of it, her fingers tapping against the table or her cup. Sansa wanted to ask who or what she was looking for but didn’t know how to do so discreetly.

A broad, dark-haired man suddenly entered the tavern and Arya straightened up in her seat. He nodded in their direction quickly before getting an ale for himself. He beamed at Arya as he approached before his blue eyes turned to Sansa.

“Milady,” he greeted with a small cock of his head. Sansa smiled politely.

“My lord,” she responded on instinct and Arya choked on a laugh, the sound muffled by the cup around her mouth. The man smirked.

“No lord, milady. Just a humble blacksmith.”

“He’s Gendry,” Arya replied and before Sansa could say anything else Arya continued. “Any news?”

“Aye, apparently Lord Bolton was visiting Lord Umber to try and gain his support.”

“And did Lord Umber accept?”

“As far as I know, he has not.”

Arya frowned. “The Umbers are one of the Starks’ most faithful bannermen, why would the Boltons go that far North?”

“If they win the Umbers support, surely others will follow,” Sansa supplied. Arya’s mouth twisted in thought.

“Maybe,” her sister replied slowly. “But it is a big risk to take. No…there must be some other reason for going up there.”

“Joramun’s horn,” Gendry said suddenly causing both women to stare at him. He raised his eyebrows and lifted his hands, palms outstretched in a gesture as if to say ‘you must know’ but seeing the blank looks the sisters gave him he sighed. “It is a magic horn, with the power to give you three wishes. They say it was lost near the wall thousands of years ago.”

“You don’t actually believe that?” Sansa asked with a small laugh but the sound died at the look on Arya’s face.

“We have to find it before they do,” Arya replied determinedly. Sansa blinked.

“We can’t go all the way to the wall!” Sansa gasped. “Robb will lose his mind with worry if we disappear!”

“He’ll lose more than his mind if we don’t go!” Arya retorted hotly but softened just as fast, reaching to take Sansa’s hand. “We must do it, for Robb’s Kingdom and for us. If we stop this rebellion, we’re free to do as we wish, be with whoever we want.”

Sansa caught the way Arya’s eyes glanced briefly at Gendry at the last part of her speech but chose not to comment. She chewed her lip and pulled her hand from Arya and starting to wring her hands together nervously as she pondered the situation. It was a dangerous trek to the wall, especially for two women. She had no doubt Arya could defend herself but still, if wildlings attacked or wild beasts, she doubted they would last long. But Arya was right, they couldn’t allow the Boltons to take such a powerful weapon. Sansa still doubted it existed but if it did, and she hadn’t done anything to stop it, she would never forgive herself.

“Alright,” she conceded and Arya beamed. Sansa held up a hand. “But two conditions.”

“I’m listening,” Arya replied, palms braced on the table.

“We need a guard. Two women travelling alone is suspicious so we shall return to Winterfell and get Ser Rodrik to accompany us.”

“Gendry can come,” Arya responded with a shrug. “He is quite capable of swinging a hammer.”

Sansa looked at Gendry and had to agree that he definitely had the body of a capable warrior. She would rather someone she knew but she trusted Arya’s judgement.

“And second,” she continued. “We take the wolves. I know they draw attention but we can let them go at a distance in the wilderness.”

“Agreed,” Arya said with a clap of her hands, already putting her cloak on. “Lets go!”

***

She was pleasantly surprised at the lack of trouble they had as they made their way further North. Gendry had turned out to be good company, polite and kind with her but playful with Arya. Lady and Nymeria followed at a distance, hidden away in the wilderness but always close enough to come if there was a need of them.

It was only as they approached the Last Hearth that Sansa began to feel uneasy. She whistled lowly and Lady came bounding from the woods to walk by her mare’s side. Arya glanced at her and then around their surroundings.

“Is everything alright?” Gendry asked, pulling his horse to a stop.

“Well, this is a lucky day!” a cold voice spoke and they whirled to face the man behind them, leaning against a tree and regarding them with cold blue eyes, a smirk on his lips. He held a bow loosely by his side, a quiet threat.

“Who are you?” Gendry demanded, fingers twitching, ready to reach for his weapon. Lady growled and Nymeria appeared on the other side of Arya, copying her littermates’ threat. The man raised his eyebrows at the wolves, his smirk growing.

“Dire wolves, how interesting,” the man replied, giving no indication that he had heard Gendry. “The sigil of House Stark no?”

Sansa’s grip tightened on the reigns as she felt her heart pounding wildly. This man scared her, even with Lady by her side. Even Arya looked shaken looking upon him.

“And if I remember my lessons, there are two Stark daughters,” the man continued, pushing off of the tree. He stalked closer, ignoring as Lady snapped her jaws threateningly. “Now just what would the precious Northern Princesses be doing all the way up here with only their wolves and one guard? Surely the King is not so negligent of his lovely sisters?”

“Who are you?” Arya bit out, her words strong despite her horse taking a step back, sensing the threat of the man.

“Ramsay Bolton,” he responded and too late Sansa saw the hounds approaching from all angles, trapping them. Lady and Nymeria could take them together, she knew but Ramsay was already reaching for his quiver. He grinned as he aimed the arrow straight at Lady who had lunged for him.

“Don’t!” Sansa screamed both to her wolf for her action and for Ramsay not to shoot. She heard Arya yell and Gendry curse. She saw Nymeria charge after her sister and Sansa covered her eyes, unable to watch her precious companion be killed.

“Argh!”

The smell of smoke filled her nostrils, choking her and she struggled to open her eyes as it burned into her. She coughed uncontrollably, jerking as a hand grabbed her elbow.

“Its me,” Arya hissed before she tugged on the reigns of Sansa’s horse, galloping into the shelter of the trees. Nymeria bounded in front of them and Sansa gasped in relief as Lady appeared behind her littermate. Gendry followed them from behind. They galloped for a moment until they came to a clearing with a weirwood tree.

Sansa dismounted quickly, running to Lady’s side and checking her for injury but it seemed as though her wolf had a lucky escape. She buried her head in Lady’s neck, her wolf licking her cheek in silent reassurance.

“What happened?” Arya asked, looking back in the direction they had came from.

“It just suddenly went dark and smoke appeared from nowhere,” Gendry replied. “I thought I saw a white flash though.”

The sudden snap of a twig caused them to freeze. Gendry grabbed his hammer, Arya unsheathed her sword. Lady and Nymeria flanked Sansa on either side.

Lady suddenly stepped forward, sniffing the air with interest. Sansa hissed at her wolf to come back but Lady suddenly took off, disappearing into the trees. The three of them looked at each other. Nymeria snorted as though amused, sitting back on her hunches when Lady returned, a great white direwolf following in her wake.

“Oh,” Sansa breathed. The wolf was a beautiful creature, elegant and gleaming white fur. But then he started sniffing at Lady and the three of them started laughing.

“Lady!” Arya laughed. “Now is not the time to go looking for a mate!”

“Will Robb let us take him home?” Sansa asked.

“I don’t know if Robb would but I will not,” a voice called out. The amusement disappeared and they returned to a defence stance. Yet both Lady and Nymeria seemed unfazed as a dark-haired man appeared from the trees.

“Who are you?” the three of them asked him at the same time and the man stopped, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m the one who just saved you from that madman,” he replied easily. He glanced at them all, his gaze lingering on Ghost and Lady, who still seemed to be engrossed in each other. “Ghost is my wolf.”

“Can you call him off before he impregnates Lady please?” she snapped. Gendry guffawed and Arya smirked at the man’s blush.

“Sorry,” he responded before whistling to Ghost. The white beast whined, looking over at his master in betrayal. Jon pointed down at his feet, eyebrows raised in command and the wolf huffed, giving Lady’s head an affectionate butt before returning to the man’s side.

“So,” Arya asked slowly. “do you support Robb Stark? Is that why you helped us escape Ramsay Bolton?”

“I’ve met Ramsay Bolton before,” he responded. “I wasn’t going to stand by and watch him torment you all.”

“How did you do it?” Gendry asked in fascination.

“An old trick,” the man replied with a slight lift of his lips.

“Thank you, Sir…” Sansa said, pausing and looking at him expectantly.

“Jon,” he replied. “And you are?”

“Arya Stark,” Arya said proudly.

“Princess Arya,” Gendry teased and Arya glared as she whacked him on the head. He continued laughing even as he rubbed his head, grinning at Jon. “I’m Gendry, their personal guard.”

“And I’m Sansa Stark,” Sansa greeted with a smile. “It is lovely to meet you, Jon.”


	4. Chapter 4

Jon led them to his cabin, stoking the fire to life and gesturing for them to sit down and warm themselves. He had offered them a warm cup of mead, which Sansa politely accepted even though she hated it as much as ale. Jon had then occupied himself with sorting through the food he had foraged, tossing a rabbit to Ghost.

The wolf grabbed it for a second before he looked towards where Lady and Nymeria were lying in front of the fire at their respective mistress’ feet. He picked the rabbit up and padded up to Lady, who raised her head in interest as he dropped it in front of her, sitting back on his haunches and looking pleased with himself. Lady sniffed the rabbit before rearing up and rubbing her head against Ghost’s neck.

Jon rolled his eyes as he spoke to his wolf. “Leave her alone boy.”

“Lady has a boyfriend!” Arya teased over the rim of her cup. Sansa scowled.

“Well so do you!” she retorted, smirking as Arya’s cheeks flushed and her sister glared at her.

Jon sighed at the sisters and threw another scowl at his lovesick wolf, who had curled up beside Lady and was watching him with an innocent ‘not my fault’ look in his eyes as he rested his head on top of the wolf’s head.

“I’m going to get some more fire wood before it gets dark,” he said after a moment, picking up his axe.

“Do you need any help?” Gendry asked, already moving to stand.

“No, I’m fine thank you,” Jon responded, already out of the door.

He didn’t hear Tormund approach over the echoing thud of the axe on the wood but he saw the man walk casually in front of him, the movement causing Jon to jerk suddenly and the axe slipped from his hands, spinning across the ground and barely missing Tormund’s feet.

“I have to be honest with you,” Tormund said, leaning back against a nearby tree as if he hadn’t almost been attacked by a flying axe. “That was counted as a wish, you know."

“What? That isn't fair!” Jon retorted, moving to pick up his axe again as he scowled at the genie, who simply raised a challenging eyebrow at him.

“Yes, well life isn't fair kid, get used to it!” he stated firmly. Jon shook his head.

“I thought I was in charge of my own wishes,” he mumbled. “You never said anything about taking over yourself.”

Tormund cleared his throat, examining his fingernails intently. "Well, actually, I've done you a favour, if you care to listen?"

“Fine, I’m listening,” Jon bit out after a moment. Tormund nodded happily, pushing away from the tree and clapping Jon on the shoulder.

"I actually did you a favour boy," the genie explained, nodding enthusiastically again when Jon raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I did. You see, you won't say it out loud but I know men like you. You need to be accepted, to feel useful, to belong. A hero fulfills all those things."

"So, you wished for me to be a hero?" Jon replied with a puzzled frown.

"You wished to be a hero," Tormund corrected, pointing at Jon's chest. "Here. You've always wanted it."

"But still, that wasn't your wish to take," Jon grumbled.

"I thought I was saving you time," the genie replied. "You offered to free me so I thought I would help you along and help you achieve what you truly desire but will never wish for."

"I know you did it to help," Jon said, giving the genie a small smile of acceptance. "Thank you for that."

"While on the subject though," Tormund continued. "I should go over the basic rules."

“Alright,” Jon answered. "Go ahead." 

“There are some things I cannot do. I can’t kill anyone or bring them back from the dead! And I can’t make anyone fall in love.”

“Well none of that matters,” Jon replied easily, frowning as Tormund grinned at him.

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” the genie said after a moment, still smirking. Jon glanced at him briefly before Tormund finally grinned and dismissed himself, disappearing back into the horn.

Jon returned to his work, chopping up enough wood to fill his bag before returning inside. Gendry and Arya were curled up on either side of Nymeria. Sansa was kneeling beside her sister, tucking a blanket around her when she looked up at him.

“Sorry,” she whispered, careful not to wake her slumbering companions. “I took it from by the fire, I hope you don’t mind.”

“No,” he responded quickly. She smiled, her cheeks dimpling and her blue eyes sparkling and Jon couldn’t help but feel his lips twitch, her happiness contagious and consuming him. He gestured behind him to the bed in the corner. “Um, you and your sister should sleep on the bed. I feel bad making Princesses sleep on the floor.”

“Arya could sleep on a floating piece of wood and be content,” Sansa replied with another smile. “She never was one for being a proper lady, let alone a Princess.”

“Unlike you,” he blurted out, cheeks flushing as she raised her eyebrows at him. He gestured to her, trying to think of what he meant to say and all his brain registered was her auburn locks, the words rushing past his lips before he could think. “Your hair is pretty.”

“My hair is pretty?” she echoed, although her lips twitched slightly. “Are you going to compliment my name next?”

“Your name?” he questioned as she leaned back on her hands, regarding him through her lashes.

“A man ought to tell a lady that her name is pretty,” she responded simply.

“Oh,” Jon stated dumbly. “I don’t have much experience with ladies. But you do have a very pretty name all the same.”

“Thank you, Jon,” she grinned.

“So why are you this far North?” he asked, reaching out a hand to pull her up and guiding her back to the stools by the fire.

“We’re trying to help my brother,” she answered. “There is a House planning a rebellion and he is trying hard to keep the Kingdom together. He…well he wanted both Arya and I to marry but we convinced him to just marry me off.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said automatically. Sansa gave him a small smile and attempted an indifferent shrug but he could tell by the way she ducked her head that she was trying to hide how much it bothered her.

“It is silly,” she said after a moment. “I just always wanted to marry for love, to marry for more than duty or alliances.”

“That isn’t silly,” Jon replied. “Perhaps there will be a Lord out there who will love you and have an army.”

“Perhaps,” Sansa sighed, staring into the flames sadly, her tone showing just how much she believed in that happening. “Anyway, we heard a rumour about the horn of winter being lost up near the wall. It has the power to grant three wishes. I don’t believe it personally but Arya thought we should come and look for it before the Boltons found it. And I didn’t see the harm in looking. If I’m wrong then we still save Robb and if I’m right, well there was no threat of the Boltons getting a magical aid to their treachery.”

Jon swallowed thickly, deliberately avoiding her eyes. The horn glinted in his bag and he resisted the urge to move the sack. He cleared his throat softly, declaring they should go to sleep before he went to get his blanket from the bed and handed it over to her. She raised her eyebrows again as she looked up at him.

“What about you?” she asked and Jon shrugged.

“I have Ghost,” he replied automatically but a glance at his wolf found the beast fast asleep, curled up against Lady. Sansa laughed, the brief bell-like sound echoing through the cabin before she clamped a hand to her mouth, glancing at her sleeping companions as they stirred slightly at the noise.

“You’re very sweet,” she said after a moment once Gendry and Arya had fallen back into a blissful slumber. She rose from the stool, ignoring his still outstretched hand as she went to Arya’s side, turning the blanket up as she slid beneath it. Jon let his hand drop, unsure of what else to do.

“Well, um…goodnight then,” he said after another moment of her just smiling at him. He turned to his bed as her soft voice replied.

“Goodnight, Jon.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was still in the early hours of dawn when he returned to the cabin with the extra food supplies he had gathered for the three people staying with him.

Arya and Gendry jolted apart when he opened the door, making him pause with raised eyebrows. Arya ducked her head away, even as her cheeks heated whereas Gendry just shrugged at him, making Jon snort.

He supposed he would be the same, if he had pretty young love to spoil with love and attention.

Sansa mumbled something beside them as she rolled over, her arms reaching up to stretch as she opened her eyes. She blinked in confusion as she saw Jon looking at her and he cleared his throat, darting his eyes away.

“Don’t worry,” Arya teased, nudging her sister’s shoulder as Sansa sat up and stifled a yawn. “He wasn’t staring at you sleeping, he just came in.”

“Shut up,” Sansa grumbled before her stomach growled.

“I brought food,” Jon stated when he heard the sound, smiling shyly.

“My hero!” Arya declared, jumping to her feet eagerly.

Jon chuckled as he set his hunting bag and the rabbits he had snared on the table. Ghost gave an interested snort, padding over to sniff at the edge of the table in search of his own breakfast. Lady sat elegantly by Sansa, watching him silently and patiently while Nymeria leapt to her feet and ran circles around the table in excitement.

He tossed the rabbits to each of the wolves. Ghost and Nymeria jumped up to snatch the bodies while they were in the air. Lady gave him an unimpressed look for throwing her food before she lowered herself gracefully to take delicate bites of the meat.

There hadn’t been much time to gather things in the early hours of the dawn but he had managed to pick a few more berries and apples for his guests, laying them out on the table.

“It isn’t much,” he said softly. “And I would imagine it lacks a lot compared to what you are used to.”

“Food is food,” Sansa replied, giving him a warm smile as she rose from her makeshift bed, her arms stretching high above her head. “Thank you for doing this, Jon. We’re sorry we’ve inconvenienced you.”

“Its fine. It is nice to have some company for once,” he answered. He picked up a handful of blackberries and popped them in his mouth.

The three of them came up to the table to pick at the food. Ghost whined them, making his way to the door where he scratched at the wood. Jon nodded at his companion and crossed the floor and letting the wolf out.

“Can I talk to you?” Jon asked as he emerged from the cabin to find Tormund, sitting on a tree stump. The genie raised a brow.

“Recent evidence suggests yes,” he commented, grinning when Jon scowled.

“Those ladies,” Jon said, gesturing behind him and Tormund’s grin seemed to widen even more, making Jon huff before he continued. “They need you more than I do.”

“Is that so?”

“How would that work?” Jon asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “What if I wish for you to help them?”

“Well, firstly, that puts me right back where I was. Sorry, but you promised to set me free and if I go to them, well I’m risking my freedom. And for what? Nothing, because it would be a wasted wish anyway,” Tormund answered, giving an amused sniff. He pushed himself from the stump and poked Jon’s chest playfully. “Have you forgotten already?”

“Forgotten what?”

“That will be a yes,” Tormund chuckled, shaking his head. “You forgot that I made you a hero. And that, my friend, would suggest that you can help them just fine by yourself.”

“Me?” he repeated with a splutter. “What can I do?”

“Get an army, kill the guy who is giving them hassle, be their sworn shield,” Tormund listed, hitting his fingers with each suggestion before giving a lazy shrug. “Possibilities are endless for being a hero really. You just need to take the opportunities when they arise.”

***

For the next couple of days, Jon remained silent as he took them into the forest in search of the horn.

He could feel it heavy in his bag and hated that he was lying to them, especially when the frustration and sadness was plain on their faces for every hour that passed with no success.

Tormund’s words kept repeating in his mind. He understood why the genie hadn’t wanted to risk the deal they had made and he was right, Jon had given him his word that he would set him free and he should uphold that deal.

But the other part, the reminder of him being a hero seemed to be a waste of words. No such opportunity for helping them had arisen.

On top of that, he was often distracted with Ghost’s interest in Lady. Several times a day he had to call his wolf repeatedly to no avail, resulting in him having to go and physically drag the beast from where he hovered by Lady’s side, nuzzling into her neck.

“Sorry,” he said as he did this for the fifth time today.

Sansa giggled and the sound sent a flood of warmth through him, making him smile before he could even think.

There was dirt on her cheek, leaves clinging to her hair but her eyes sparkled like a sunlit sea and her hair was shining like copper in the sunlight. She was beautiful. The thought made Jon swallow thickly and duck his head away.

“I don’t get it!” Arya huffed, storming towards them. She gestured irritably around them. “It should be here!”

“Maybe it doesn’t exist,” Sansa suggested.

“Fine, you were right, as usual!” Arya snapped, rubbing her forehead in annoyance. “What are we going to do now?”

Jon clenched his hand into a fist, the knuckles brushing against the bag where he could feel the horn. He swallowed thickly, averting his gaze as the silence stretched on.

Until the sound of voices filled the air around them.

Ghost bounded to his side, his body low as he sniffed the air tentatively. Jon stepped in front of Sansa, throwing her a reassuring smile over his shoulder as his fingers curled around the hilt of his dagger. But when the beast made no other sound, Jon felt the tension leave his own body.

Mance stepped into the clearing, throwing an annoyed look at the twigs that had blocked his path before grinning at Jon.

"Still alive I see," he chuckled before his gaze wandered to the three people accompanying him. "Well, I never. Jon Snow has friends after all."

"I don't have anything to trade today," Jon stated but even as the words left his mouth, he knew that wasn't why Mance had sought him out. They never did business out in the open like this and Mance never brought more than a couple of his people with him. Now though, it seemed as though all of Mance’s main commanders were with him today.

“It isn’t trade I’m needing today lad,” Mance said softly, casting another curious look at Jon’s companions. “My people are settled not far from here. I went to look for you at your cabin but noticed you were gone, so I tracked you here.”

“What do you want?”

“There is a man around here, chasing us out with hounds.”

“Ramsay,” Sansa breathed. Arya snarled beside her sister, her eyes flashing like steel.

“He killed some of my scouts,” Mance continued. “And, of the couple that got away, we heard he is returning south to bring an army up here.”

“What for?” Sansa asked. Courage seemed to embrace her as she stepped beside Jon to look at the man before them.

“Kill us,” Mance said with a shrug. “Or at least a few of us. Enough to make us scared enough to kneel and follow him.”

“An army to take on your brother,” Jon sighed, casting an apologetic look at the Stark sisters.

“What will we do?” Arya asked, her voice catching with emotion.

Sansa turned instantly, throwing her arms around her sister’s shoulders and squeezing her tightly to her chest. Gendry knelt before them, his hands grasping Arya’s smaller one as he gave her a reassuring smile.

“We’ll find another way,” he insisted, squeezing her hand gently. “Arya Stark doesn’t give up.”

The sound of horns suddenly erupted around them and Mance hissed, retreating back into the shadows. Ghost growled lowly, pressing himself against Lady’s side protectively. Nymeria gave a soft snort as she edged behind Arya, her ears turned down as though she were being scolded.

The white banners burst through the trees around them and a mere second was all it took for them to be surrounded by horses.

Jon instantly reached for his dagger but Sansa’s gentle grip around his wrist gave him pause. She shook her head just as another horse emerged into the clearing, a grey dire-wolf at his side. Jon cast a glance at Arya and Sansa and, judging by their guilty and slightly scared expressions, this would be their brother.

“Step away from my sisters!” Robb growled, unsheathing his sword and pointing it threateningly at Jon, one of the men doing the same to Gendry.

“No, stop!” Sansa cried, stepping in front of him. “Robb, Jon isn’t our enemy. He saved us!”

“And Gendry is my friend!”

Robb’s frown remained as he looked over Jon’s form but he did at least return the sword to its sheath. He shook his head, the curls dirty and wet from days of searching for them.

“Give the boys something for their kindness towards my sisters,” Robb declared to the man beside him. “And you two, get on your horses.”

“But Robb we…” Arya started but Robb cut her off.

“Do you have any idea how worried I have been? I have dragged practically everyone across the North looking for you two. What in the seven hells were you thinking, running away like that?”

“We just wanted to help!” Arya replied, scowling down at the ground in response to her scolding.

“Come on, we’re going back to Winterfell where you will be safe. And if I have to lock the pair of you in your chambers I will!”

Sansa sighed, giving Jon a small smile as her horse was brought forward to her.

“Well,” she said, giving a little laugh that made Jon’s stomach swoop. She met his eyes then and her smile looked almost sad. “Thank you for everything Jon.”

“Goodbye, my lady,” he responded, giving her a small bow.

Her smile was a little more genuine this time before she ducked her chin and turned away from him. One of the men helped hoist her up into the saddle as another helped Arya onto the horse beside her.

“Thank you again,” Robb said, giving a curt nod to Jon and Gendry before turning his horse around.

Sansa cast one last look over her shoulder before she followed her brother and then she and Arya were swallowed by the group as they were led away from the clearing.

“Now what?” Gendry asked, kicking a lone stone. Jon shrugged.

“Go home,” he suggested bitterly.

He turned from his companion, storming back in the direction of his cabin. There was anger thundering in his veins though he had no idea why. It was better this way, he thought. Beside him, Ghost paused to give a long, needy whine, red eyes fixed on the pawprints that lead away from them.

His bag shook slightly, the blue mist escaping and turning into Tormund’s form before his eyes. Jon scowled at the genie although he had no reason to be angry with him either.

“It is a little duller already,” Tormund commented, his gaze following Ghost’s. Jon grunted. Tormund followed him inside the cabin. “She liked you, I could tell.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jon responded. “She’s a princess and I’m,” he trailed off with a laugh, pushing a hand through his curls. “I’m just a bastard with nothing but a small cabin and a wolf for company.”

“And a genie,” Tormund prompted with a smirk. Jon paused and turned slowly to face the genie.

“If…If I asked for it…” Jon started, watching Tormund’s face carefully. The man’s grin widened and he gave the briefest of nods.

“Say the words kid,” Tormund urged, folding his arms as he waited. Jon sucked in a breath.

“Tormund,” he huffed, stretching his arms out and giving a disbelieving laugh at what he was about to say. “I wish for you to make me a prince!”


	6. Chapter 6

 

Upon returning to Winterfell, Robb had sent them to their chambers as though they were children once more.

No matter how many times Arya tried to explain why they had disappeared, tried to reassure their brother that they were fine and that Gendry and Jon were good people, Robb would not listen. Instead, he would comment about how worried he had been, how he had had to call his men to Winterfell and command them to search the entire North for them.

Sansa knew Robb was angry from his worry for them but she wished he would understand that they would never have caused him such grief if they hadn’t needed to. And it had reassured Sansa as well, seeing that the Horn of Winter didn’t exist after all. It meant that the Boltons could not possess such power and wield it against Robb.

Lady and Nymeria were kept confined in the kennels too and that had angered Sansa more than being treated like a child. 

She had resorted to her usual distraction of sewing when there was a gentle knock at the door. Suppressing a smile at her sister’s usual tricks and sneakiness, Sansa stood aside to allow her sister to enter.

“I’m sorry I dragged you along,” Arya said immediately as she gently closed the door behind her.

“You didn’t,” Sansa assured her. She sat down at the fire once more, picking up the dress she had been mending, the fabric ripped in some places from their journey.

“I wish Robb would listen,” Arya sighed, flopping backwards on the bed with an undignified grunt. Sansa clucked her tongue at the behaviour before lowering her gaze once more to her sewing.

“He will. Just give him time. He was sick with worry and is angry because of that,” Sansa replied.

“He didn’t like Gendry much,” Arya stated suddenly, biting her bottom lip. Sansa glanced at her with a sympathetic smile.

“You’ll see him again.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Arya roll onto her side and grin at her. “And you will see Jon again, I’m sure.”

“Don’t be silly,” Sansa muttered, frowning at the heat she felt in her cheeks. “It isn’t the same. I hardly know Jon.”

“You know enough to like him though,” her sister retorted, her grin widening in amusement. “And Lady misses Ghost. She was whimpering something awful when Robb put her in the cage.”

“Well, that is just because she doesn’t like being cooped up,” Sansa retorted, rolling her eyes at Arya’s amusement.

Thankfully, Arya remained silent this time and Sansa managed to focus her mind once more upon fixing her dress. Within moments, Sansa smiled to herself as her sister's soft snores filled the room. Chancing a glance, she rolled her eyes at the way Arya was lying across the whole bed on her stomach, her hand dangling over the side and her mouth open against the pillow. 

Her thoughts drifted to Jon and she pursed her lips slightly. Arya was her sister and Sansa could never hide anything from her for they knew each other too well. She had been attracted to Jon, it was impossible not to be with his pouty mouth and soft grey eyes like a puppy. He was handsome and he had been sweet and kind.

But she had given Robb her word that she would marry and if it protected their family then Sansa would do her duty, no matter her own dreams of a marriage based on love. 

If only Jon were a Prince, she thought with a sigh. We may have grown to love each other.

***

Jon raised his arms, fingers reaching to touch the material curiously. It was soft and smooth and he grimaced at the thought of how expensive it must be. He cast a critical gaze down to his boots, raising them up slowly and turning his ankle as he appraised them. Aware of Tormund watching him, he looked at the genie and raised his eyebrows.

"Isn't this a little excessive?" he asked. Tormund snorted.

"What kind of princes do you know lad?"

"None," Jon responded honestly with a shrug. "Mance calls himself King beyond The Wall but that isn't real royalty. Sansa and Arya were the first true royals I knew."

"Well," Tormund said with a decisive sniff. "Princes are meant to be extravagant. It isn't just the princess you need to impress but the one who approves her match. Her brother will want to be assured that you can provide for her."

"I suppose," Jon agreed although he could hear the doubt in his own voice.

Never in his life had he had such a luxurious item. It seemed so odd to suddenly go from a scavenger to a person who wore silk and cashmere. This outfit would pay for his food for years in the town market and the thought made him scowl. Ridiculous, he thought. 

"And why did you have to change my appearance?" Jon asked, touching his now silver strands with distaste. 

"To go with your claim," Tormund responded dismissively, barely acknowledging the question as he circled Jon. "That is just about everything. Except.” He clicked his fingers, a sealed envelope suddenly appearing in his hands.

Jon frowned as the genie passed it to him, turning it over in his hand curiously. On the back, there was a red seal with a wolf’s face and a crow above it. Seeing his puzzled expression, Tormund chuckled and tapped two fingers on the envelope.

“Papers,” he said simply. “To prove your heritage. You are Prince Aemon Targaryen.”

“Odd name for these parts,” Jon quipped, raising an eyebrow at the genie.

“You have Targaryen blood in you,” Tormund replied with a huff. “It would make it easier to win support if you have a recognisable name.”

“And a Targeryen has just been living in the North, completely unknown about?”

“A Targaryen woman married a wildling decades ago, you are just in their line. That’s what those papers say and that it what you will say if anyone asks. And besides, creating that has changed the records t account for your existence so nobody will be any the wiser.”

Jon doubted that, knowing how observant and smart the Stark princesses had both seemed. Both wanting to avoid an argument, he tucked the envelope safely in the pocket of his doublet. Adjusting his crown, he glanced at the genie expectantly. “Well,” He held his hands out in expectation of Tormund’s approval. “Am I ready to go?”

“One more thing,” Tormund stated, holding a finger up as he grinned. “To really prove you are who you say.”

***

“I have thought about the rebellion issue over these last couple of days,” Robb stated as they broke their fast the next morning.

Sansa blinked in surprise, glancing at her brother. It was the first time since returning to Winterfell that he had said more than a basic greeting to either of them.

“I’ve sent ravens out to ask Lords to bring their daughters to court. Perhaps Princess Margaery of Highgarden or Princess Myrcella of Lannisport may prove worthy alliances.”

“How romantic,” Sansa sighed and Robb gave one of his own.

“Sometimes love comes after Sansa. In dire times, we must do what is best for everyone.”

“Does this mean Sansa is off the hook?” Arya piped up, even as she refused to look up from her bowl of oatmeal. Robb glanced at her and sighed again.

“No,” he stated firmly. “I told you, marrying you two isn’t just about raising an alliance for my army but about protecting you. If things turn for the worse, I want you to both have somewhere safe to run to.”

“Robb,” Arya said gently and Sansa closed her eyes, already seeing this was going to descend into another disagreement. Her sister tried to be reasonable and for Arya to be diplomatic was a big deal for her. She was truly trying to be patient and Sansa was proud of her for it. But Robb was stubborn, much like her parents had always been. And he stood before she could even continue.

“I must get on with these ravens to my banner men,” he blurted, casting them both a disapproving look. “The pair of you caused a lot of disruption and I need to distribute rewards to those who rallied to my side and helped find you.”

“We didn’t ask you to do that!” Arya snapped and Sansa groaned. This had to be a new record she thought grimly.

“No but you didn’t say much of anything at all!” he retorted. Shaking his head, he turned and left the hall without a single look back.

***

Arya grumbled beside her as the sound of the horns broke through the silence of the dawn. Her shuffling causing her feet to collide with Sansa’s shin.

Sansa grunted, pulling her head from her pillow and frowning slightly at the sunlight streaming across the floor, as though it would give her answers as to why there was so much commotion this early in the day.

Her door burst open and she shrieked, jumping up and yanking the furs so harshly in front of her face, it knocked Arya back and over the edge of the bed. Robb barely noticed, striding towards her and tugging her hastily from her bed.

“Come on, get ready!” he ushered her, shoving her down in front of her vanity as her handmaiden raced to her side.

“What is going on?” Sansa asked as her maid started to part her hair into sections for her braid.

“There is a new suitor for you,” Robb commented, finally taking note of Arya as she sat back down on Sansa’s bed. “When did you get here?”

“A new suitor?” Sansa repeated, saving Arya the trouble of answering their brother.

“Yes. Prince Aemon Targaryen.”

“Is he related to Aegon?” Arya asked, wrinkling her nose at the memory of the man who had tried to court her.

“Possibly,” Robb answered with a shrug. “The Targaryens are all related to each other in some way.” And then seeing Sansa’s unimpressed look and brushing her comment about how that was hardly a good first selling point, he continued. “But, from what I could gather he has nothing to do with Aegon. He is actually the opposite, known as the Prince beyond The Wall.”

Sansa’s eyes flew up to meet Arya’s in the mirror, their brief shock at their brother’s confession quickly melting away before Robb could see it. Jon had mentioned Mance before they actually met the man, telling them that he was known as the King beyond the Wall. But Jon hadn’t said anything about Mance having a son. Although,  _although…_

No, she thought closing her eyes against such a stupid hope. Jon wasn’t Mance’s son, he would have told her. He would surely have been with Mance instead of the man having to track him across the woods to tell him of the turmoil Ramsay was unleashing upon his people.

Suddenly, Jory appeared in the doorway, his hand braced against the wooden frame as he tried to catch his breath. Robb whirled around in shock, eyes wide with concern as Jory swallowed and straightened.

“He has a bloody dragon!”


End file.
